Memories and Mistakes
by YouthAwareness
Summary: Nick makes mistakes. He has done wrong.


**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

I love him so much, so, so, so much. Everyone has a moment of weakness. Don't they? In my case not a moment, more like a month. I knew what I was doing was wrong but I needed the thrill, the excitement. I love Greg, I swear. The guy I fucked was nothing. A fling. All the words I told him were a lie. I tell Greg the truth. I don't want to hurt him, but why did I keep doing it? He's amazing, his sense of humour, his smile and that body. My heart aches when I think what I could lose. Lose everything. He is my life. They always say it's the small things you miss the most. I don't want to miss anything. He always leaves clean towels out for me. He puts small notes around reminding me he loves me. He's great at making excuses to get us out of awkward conversations at those upper end dinner parties. He always has a treat in his pocket for the dog next door. Those two kids love him, always want to toss a ball with him. I think I just scare them. They see me as the grumpy one. I don't think I've ever said a grumpy thing to them. Maybe it's the fact Greg is too nice. I'm grumpy in comparison. Him being too nice, is that why this happened? Shut up, I can't go blaming him. He's never done a bad thing to me. Always right there when I need him. Except that fight.

I tell Greg the truth whenever anything happens but I can't tell him this. This would destroy him. Rip his heart in two. I can't be responsible for that. This is my fault, of course I'm fucking responsible if his heart is broken. He gave his heart to me, told me he loved me, always would love me. I can't get away from my actions. Every action has a reaction, that's what dad always told me. I'm not being a good, honest, supporting partner. Good and honest wouldn't meet with a guy three times a week for a month. He was just sex, a fuck, a fling. Greg is love. Our sex life wasn't going down hill before this happened, certainly did after. During the fling I never asked for sex from Greg. If he offered I took. A few times he asked what was wrong. I told him I overworked at the gym. He'd nod in response. Why did I seek out sex with someone else if I was happy? Guess I'm not happy. I am fucking happy.

I should tell him. Damn I should. I need to be a man. Don't do the crime if you can't do the time. Another thing my dad always told me. Why can't I fucking rewind time. I want to stop it all from happening. Greg and I shouldn't have fought that night. The stupidest fucking thing that got escalated until we were shouting at each other. I promised to pick up dry cleaning. I totally forgot, it was a manic day. Greg kept telling me I never do what I'm asked. Always trying to sneak out of it. I shouted back that he asked for too much. That he was too much damn work. That pushed things over the edge. He told me I was always the same. I told him to loosen up. He stormed to the bedroom. I stormed out.

I had to get a drink, time to think. I met him that night. The fling. He was different to Greg but sometimes different is good. He came to my table. Talked about the game, the news. Nothing important. I was just so mad at Greg, when that guy led me by the hand. I went.

I got so much excitement from being with him. Greg and I are together six years. Six years with one man. The thrill of being with someone else is amazing. The need. The want. Someone else showing interest gave me a boost. I'm not as bad as Greg was saying if someone else wants me. I'm talking shit. Pure fucking shit.

The fling listened when I talked, suppose he had no other choice because he was sucking my cock. He was so good. Different. Not that Greg wasn't good I think he was too familiar. He did all the same things. Same styles. After I came we arranged to meet again. If I didn't want to, I didn't have to. The offer was there if I wanted it. When I got home Greg was still up. It was late, maybe one. He apologized, so did I. We went to bed. Back to mundane life. The fling and I met in secret. In motel rooms, sometimes his car. I ended the fling after a month. He was getting bored with me. I could tell. Best end it before he got the chance.

Greg wondered where I went all those times. I thought up valid excuses, covering my tracks. If I told him I was going to the gym I'd bring my gym bag. After the fling and I were done I'd put my gear on do some push ups and sit ups. Sometimes I'd jog around the motel parking lot. I would hastily shower in the motel room. When I'd get home, if he decided to check my bag the damp stinking clothes should be enough to insure my whereabouts. I know if he really wanted to he could check the gyms' security tapes, I thought I left enough for him to believe me. He trusts me. If he didn't his CSI skills would be handy to prove me wrong.

Greg and I working together is a bit much. Seeing him at work and at home. At first it was fun, sneaking in alone time, my hand grazing his ass, his hand grabbing the front of my trousers. Now he's always there. It sounds like I don't love him, I do. I swear. I will always love him.

I do love Greg. Am I still in love with him? I can love him without being in love.


End file.
